The Man Down the Road

Please welcome guest Lucy Felthouse!

When I first sat down to think about what I’d write for this post, I drew a blank. Oddly, I can be quite ranty, unintentionally funny and am often described as quirky. So why did I struggle so much to come up with a topic?

I’ll tell you: I’m too diplomatic. There are things that piss me off on a daily, even hourly basis, and yet for the most part I have to keep quiet about it. I inhabit a world where pissing other people off is not a good idea. I certainly don’t bitch about them on the internet. Granted, I might sit and make rude gestures at my laptop screen and pull faces, but the only person that knows I’m doing that is me.

However, the man down the road has pissed me off to the max, and I’m fairly sure he won’t be reading this blog post any time soon. And if he does, I’m not really bothered because I’m brewing up to a face-to-face confrontation, anyway. I don’t do confrontation very often, either, so perhaps that’s an indication of how annoying the situation is. Perhaps I’ll even print it off when I’m done and stick it through his letterbox.

I’d better tell you what I’m going on about, hadn’t I? Maybe some of you will think I’m being really petty and overreacting, but others will be sitting there nodding, because you know what I’m talking about.

Okay, so I’m a first time dog owner. I have a pup of thirteen months old, and we’ve had him almost a year. He’s not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination (which you’ll probably already know if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter), but one thing he is not is aggressive. And that’s not me just saying that because he’s my little boy. He really isn’t. The only time he barks is when we’re playing or if something makes him jump. Or at pigeons. But that’s okay, because we don’t want pigeons in our garden, anyway. He only growls when we’re playing tug of war, and since his tail is also wagging like crazy the entire time, I figure the growl is him being silly, too.

He absolutely adores people, to the extent that I’ve had to apologise to many a stranger because he jumps up and gets people dirty in his enthusiasm (yes, he jumps up. And yes, I’ve tried everything short of chopping his legs off to get him to stop). He loves other dogs, too. He also has no fear. So while I’m crapping my pants at the thought of walking past a huge, scary looking dog (I was attacked by a large dog when I was little, so I’m still nervous of them. I try not be, but I can’t help it), Scamp thinks it’s okay to go sniff the dog and possibly try to play with it. If it’s a female dog, he’ll probably try to hump her, too (he’s been “done” but that doesn’t stop him – he’s a horny little bugger!). Of course, it doesn’t enter his head that the other dog might not be friendly, and I live in fear that one day he’ll meet a canine that’s not. But that’s not the point of this post, anyway.

So, that’s probably given you an idea of my dog’s temperament, yes? Not perfect, but very sweet and loving. So, would you like to know why the man down the road now crosses the road with his dog every time he sees us out walking?

Because he’s a moron, that’s why. As I just said, Scamp loves to meet other dogs. The dog down the road is a big old chocolate Lab, and he’s met Scamp several times, they’ve had a sniff and a little kiss, and then us, the respective owners have had to drag them away, because otherwise they’d stand in the street all day playing. Cute, eh? Yes, exactly.

On one occasion, though, the two of them were playing, and, as has happened many times to me with other dog owners, the leads have gotten tangled up. It’s a nightmare, but usually we just laugh about it, untangle the dogs, and go on our way. This one time, though, somehow, the clip that attaches Scamp’s lead to his harness ended up attached to the other dog’s collar. Bear in mind, he’s a big old lad, and the collar isn’t particularly tight, anyway. But it was caught fast, and we had no idea how to undo it. In the end, I took Scamp’s lead off and hung on to him while the man sorted things out. It was a pain in the arse, and the poor Lab probably got yanked about a bit, but there was no harm done. Neither of the dogs got nasty, and no one was hurt. We then went our separate ways.

Since then, the man avoids us at all costs. Bearing in mind, it was his dog’s fault as much as mine, and it was just a bloody accident! Now he crosses the road and basically acts like my dog bit his or something! If he had, then I would understand his behaviour, but as it stands, I think he’s just being petty. Especially since his dog wants to play just as much as mine does.

Ugh. Idiot, eh? Okay, rant over. Now I’ll continue to glare out of the window every time he walks past.

As a postman by day, and one of Santa’s reindeer on a single very special night, Cassius Cupid eats, sleeps, and breathes deliveries. He doesn’t mind, but sometimes wishes that someone would send him something more exciting than bills and junk mail.

One cold January morning, Cassius gets his wish. A young woman arrives with a parcel. Turns out it’s for his housemate – but Cassius doesn’t care. All he’s interested in is Carina – the beautiful female courier.

Has Cupid finally met his match?

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/cupid/

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story - so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora's Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Secret Cravings Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Guest Blogger: Lucy Felthouse and A Small Rant

Please welcome guest blogger, Lucy Felthouse. http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk

She is the editor for the anthology, Uniform Behaviour, and is here today to show it off as well as to invite you to purchase a copy for a very very good cause. You can find Uniform Behaviour HERE and at various other retail outlets all listed on Lucy's website. So stop by and visit her writing home.

Before we get to Uniform Behaviour, Lucy wants to share a bit about something that really ticks her off. She's a Brit, just like our sweet sweet Sarah, and this topic is something we can identify with in the States too. Not a day goes by that I don't have a sentence or two to say about it myself.

Take it away, Lucy!

************************************************************************************************

People in the UK don’t usually need an excuse to complain about tax. Let’s face it, we’re ripped off for tax and politicians seem to piss it up the wall. The money disappears from our accounts and yet they’re telling us we’re still in zillions of pounds of debt. And then to add insult to injury – the country grinds to a standstill because of the weather!

I pay my council tax willingly. OK, not willingly, mainly because I don’t want to get thrown in jail. But anyway, it gets paid and yet, the first sign of inclement weather (which they’ve been warning us about for weeks!) and we’re very quickly in trouble. Now, I don’t expect every single road to be gritted because the salt would run out even more quickly. But I do expect that the main roads are gritted. If they’re not, how on earth are we supposed to get to work?

My workplace is twenty miles away from where I live. The majority of my route is through countryside, but they’re fairly busy roads. I expect that they’re gritted, so I can get to work and back in one piece. It’s all well and good telling me to drive slowly, carefully and don’t make any sudden manoeuvres, but what happens if someone ploughs into me? Not my fault and yet I’ll invariably end up out of pocket and possibly even injured.

Really, is it too much to ask that the money that is prized out of our hands sensibly? All we want is to be able to get on with our lives without dicing with death on the roads! Luckily I have an office job so I’m able to work from home if absolutely necessary, but it’s not ideal. Sort it out councils – I’ve paid you, so do your damn jobs!

And snow, could you please go away now? Don’t you know when you’re not wanted? Yes, I know there are little people playing in you, but they don’t know any better. You cause havoc and you’re cold and wet. And slippery. Be gone.

OK, rant over. For now.

Are you looking for something to warm you up in this Arctic weather? I can assist, and you don’t even have to leave your seat, let alone the house.

I recently edited an erotic anthology, entitled Uniform Behaviour – Steamy Stories About Men and Women in Uniform. It contains sixteen smutty stories from both new and established writers and is guaranteed to get you hot under the collar, and elsewhere!

Whether you love yourself sailors, soldiers, pilots, police, priests or waiters, there’s something here for you. As well as being written and compiled for your titillation, this anthology is also designed to do good. A portion of the proceeds from Uniform Behaviour will be donated to UK charity Help for Heroes, which helps those wounded in current conflict.

So go on, grab yourself a copy. You’ll be doubly warm, once from reading the stories, once from knowing you’ve donated to a worthy cause.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to look at the cover again. Mmm…

Jess, Tess, And The Stick

Have any of you ever tried to teach a teenager to drive a stick? Take some advice from me. Don’t. It’s not pretty. Believe me. Jess is nineteen. Just like every other teenager on the planet she thinks she knows everything. And when you tell her that, she simply says, “Well, yeah I do.”

I don’t like arguing with Jess. Not just because I don’t want to argue, but because she is loud and WILL NOT shut the eff up. You can prove she is wrong and still she’ll be right. She will flat out deny she is EVER wrong. Wonder where she got that? (Don’t answer that.)

So Jess got it in her head she wanted a Mustang. That was okay. I could handle that. She found one in her price range and subsequently fell in love—with the color first, of course. The salesman asked, “Do you know how to drive a stick?” To which Jess replied, “What’s a stick?” He then turned to me and I said, “Yes.” I should have kept it a secret because that’s about where the argument began.

So I told Jess that she should look at other cars on the lot.

The beginning to my end. No salvation in sight. Her mouth started moving at 90 mph. And I tried to keep up my end of the argument. I could have saved all those words and all that stress and just given in right there on the spot and been home an hour earlier. No, we didn’t exactly argue for an entire hour, but instead, looked at other cars on the lot—while Jess’ bottom lip sagged all the way to the ground, of course, and the argument continued.

“If you learned how to drive a stick, what makes you think I can’t?”

Well, I have to admit that was a good question because it took all the fight out of my FINAL NO. I really wasn’t ready for it. I was tired, had other things on my mind, and wanted her to buy a freaking HONDA!

“You wouldn’t let me go to race car driving school,” she said. “So why not at least let me enjoy driving a stick?” (Yeah, race car driving school---but that’s a whole other blog, and I’m sooo not going there today.)

“Jess, you have issues with driving that simply tell me you’re not ready for anything more than a four-cylinder car and no stick at all.” That was kind of stupid of me to say, wasn’t it? Just opened up the door, didn’t I?

“Issues? I’m a good driver. What’re you talking about?” Hand on hip, nose screwed up into her eyebrows.

The salesman backed up.

“You have this thing about your middle finger and other drivers.” Yeah, I was in the thick of it now.

“When somebody cuts me off I shoot them the bird.”

“And when someone turns right when you think they should have turned left. When someone drives the speed limit in front of you and you want to drive over the speed limit. And when someone brakes in front of you, forcing you to brake and…”

“I’m a good driver.”

“You have road rage. Your frontal lobe is not fully developed—won’t be until you’re in your mid-twenties and that is a scientific fact.”

“I. DO. NOT. HAVE. ROAD. RAGE.” Face now purple, steam coming out of her ears.

Salesman excused himself to make a phone call—but I could see him standing in the window watching us. To make a long story short, Jess got the Mustang. I wrote my congressman the next day informing him as to why I thought “legal” age should be raised to 35. Yep, she played the I’m-An-Adult card with me. Marched her skinny ass right into the dealership and informed the salesman she was getting the ‘Stang.

But I had the last laugh—at least for a while—because she couldn’t get the damn car out of the dealership lot. SHE COULDN’T DRIVE A STICK! So I got to drive it the forty-five minutes home as she drove my sensible car. AND SHE WAS FUMING. Thought she could be taught to drive a stick just like that. Even the salesman laughed at her.

So we get home and I am inside the house for five minutes and she’s standing there, dangling the 'Stang keys, looking at me doing this number: “Can we go now, can we, huh, can we go?”

“Go where?”

“You promised you’d teach me how to drive it. “

“Oh. That. Well, yeah, some time.”

“SOME TIME!”

“Honey, I’m a bit tired, I-“

“You promised. What am I supposed to do just let the car sit?”

Okay, so off we went. I let her drive right out of the yard, jerking-stalling-jerking-stalling-jerking-stalling, etc. etc. etc. We get to the end of the driveway and it’s time to get out ON the actual road and I’m looking up and down the road waiting until there is NO traffic in sight so she can try. Okay, so off we went…jerking-stalling-jerking-stalling-jerking-stalling, etc. etc. etc.

So we finally get out of first and into second—sighhhh—and I have her turn off on a side road which took us to yet another side road which took us to yet another side road which took us down a country road which took us down a back road which landed us on the outer limits of civilization where I thought we might just be safe. I had her stop in the middle of the road about twenty-five or thirty times to practice letting off the clutch. Once she’d mastered that, I then had her stop at the bottom of a hill and try to get up it while letting off the clutch. OH LORD. That was a horrible experience. She ranted and raved and swore like a sailor. Finally, she was able to do it and did it several times. So we drove around for a while then went back home. A total of two hours in driving lessons—so far.

About an hour later she announces she’s going into town. Well, I was on the computer and busy and only half-listening. But thankfully, her announcement made it into my actual consciousness and I jumped from my chair.

“You’re not ready to drive in traffic,” I said.

“What do you mean? You just got through teaching me. What did you leave out?”

“I didn’t leave out anything, really. But managing a stick while in heavy traffic is a lot different than on a deserted stretch of road, hon.”

So we’re about to cross into the city limits (There really was no need to transition to this part of the story, was there? It was obvious I’d be heading into town, wasn’t it?) and I start frantically talking to her about how she can’t forget to push in the clutch when she brakes. And she’s asking me this and that and her biggest question is always WHY. Why? Because that’s the freaking way it’s done---that’s WHY!

I have her turn on a side street—busy but not as busy as the four lanes of traffic on the other road through town. But eventually, just like the chicken, we did have to cross that road. We get to THE stoplight—and no, I don’t mean there is only one stoplight in our town, lol, but this particular stoplight is the busiest, hardest, fastest, most screwed up light in town because the timing is off on it and traffic at that intersection is beyond crazy and because the traffic patterns can be so dangerous.

Whoa…why in the hell did I let her pull up to THIS stoplight. Okay, so the light turns green and…she stalls. I say, “That’s okay, take your time, push in the clutch and start it again. Let out slowly. You’ll feel the pull and then pop it!” STALL. STALL. STALL. TEARS, SCREAMING.

AND SHE GETS OUT OF THE CAR AND RUNS INTO THE WAL-GREEN PARKING LOT.

I was left sitting in the ‘STANG—on the freaking passenger side, of course. Traffic is backed up, horns are blowing. She’s over in the Wal-Green parking lot with her hands over her face. I get out of the car, put a big big big smile on my face, toss my hands up in the air and shrug to any of those MAD-AS-HELL drivers who are planning on mowing me down—and round the car to jump into the driver’s seat. At which time I start the car, finish waiting on the light that had turned red, of course, and then roll on out and across the street so I could turn around in the MacDonald’s parking lot just to get back to the stoplight so I could—like the chicken—cross the road to pick up the CRAZY CHICK WHO JUST JUMPED OUT OF HER OWN CAR AND RAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The child gets into the car, snotty nose, tears literally leaping from her eyes like they do in cartoons and she’s screaming to the top of her lungs, “I’LL NEVER DRIVE THIS CAR AGAIN. JUST TAKE IT BACK. TAKE IT BACK!”

So I drive to the old abandoned K-Mart parking lot/building area, get out and get her at the wheel again. She drives from one end to the other changing gears, going up inclines, really getting the hang of it and more comfortable with the whole shifting thing. Before we go back home, I let her drive up to that same intersection where she begins to cry again and THIS TIME, I yelled at her.

I said—“WOMAN UP!” She got through the stoplight and grinned like a fool. So we then ride all over town and she’s just as happy as a clam. So, with three more hours invested in all of this we return home. Her dad is there waiting to see her car and the two of them take off. I go inside and have a glass of wine.

In they walk about thirty minutes later and her father announces, “I think she’s got the hang of it. Didn’t take that long to teach her either. I thought it would, but she caught on pretty quick.”

I got up from my chair, walked into the kitchen, set my glass on the counter and grabbed the wine bottle from the fridge. Who needs a freaking glass?

**********************************************************************************

Also posting this week will be male erotic romance author, Brindle Chase, who is going to let all us women ask him about men. Yep--that should be a real eye-opening post.

And Lucy Felthouse joins us to share a new anthology she edited and a nice little rant about taxes, too.

So keep checking back in with Four Strong Women all week. It's shaping up to be pretty interesting to say the least.

Guest Blogger: Lucy Felthouse Talks About The Uniform Behaviour Anthology

We like sharing our life experiences here at Four Strong Women. And usually that means being able to laugh at ourselves. You know how 20/20 hindsight is---wasn't funny at the time but it sure got that way once it was over. Hey, you may as well laugh about it as cry, right?

But today I'm going to put the laugh track aside and give the floor to an author who wants to tell us all about a really great cause. Her name is Lucy Felthouse. http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk So, everyone listen up and let's all hear what Lucy's got to say.

What I’ll Be Thinking About This Christmas

I’m not much of a Christmas person. I’m not religious, so therefore all Christmas is about for me is lots of hassle, expenditure and some time off work. With the latter being by far the best part. Oh, that and the chocolate, of course.

This year is going to be different. I’ll be safely ensconced in my warm house with my presents, nice soft bed, plenty of food, people I care about and some time to chill out. However, one of my closest friends won’t have the luxury of any of those things. My friend serves in the British Army and will be spending Christmas in Afghanistan. He’s resigned to this fate, but I can’t help thinking about how rubbish it is. I’ll be spending Christmas as I usually do, and yet my friend will be miles and miles away from home, never daring to fully relax, just in case.

My only consolation is that my friend will have some decent reading material to keep him occupied in the little downtime he gets. By then, he’ll have a copy of my latest erotic anthology on his laptop and it’ll make him smile. The title is Uniform Behaviour – Steamy Stories About Men and Women in Uniform. A percentage of the proceeds goes to UK charity Help for Heroes, a fund set up to help servicemen and women who have been wounded in current conflict. My friend has known all along that I planned to do this with the anthology and has naturally been behind me 100%. I just hope the anthology raises enough money to make a difference to the life of someone who’s put theirs on the line for their country.

So this Christmas I’ll be thinking about my friend and hoping he’s OK. I’ll also be hoping that people are loading up their brand new Kindles with copies of Uniform Behaviour and filling the charity coffers. That way, together we can help people who have served us and give something back.

***

Uniform Behaviour – Steamy Stories About Men and Women in Uniform

Do you get all weak-kneed at the sight of a grubby fireman or a hunky soldier? Perhaps immaculately-dressed waiting-on staff get you feeling frisky? If so, you’ve come to the right place.

Uniform Behaviour contains sixteen smutty stories about firemen, soldiers, sailors, police, security guards and even waiters, priests and cleaners!

Delve into this anthology and enjoy steamy stories from established erotica authors including Justine Elyot, Craig J Sorensen, Victoria Blisse, Shermaine Williams, Elizabeth Coldwell and Lucy Felthouse. Uniform Behaviour also proudly introduces some exciting debut authors. So remember, you saw them here first!

As well as being written and compiled for your titillation, this anthology is also designed to do good. A portion of the proceeds from Uniform Behaviour will be donated to UK charity Help for Heroes, which helps those wounded in current conflict.

The stories in this anthology have been hand-picked by a uniform aficionado, so you can rest assured that only the sexiest erotic fiction lies in this eBook.

More information/buy now: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/index.php/published-works/uniform-behaviour-steamy-stories-about-men-and-women-in-uniform/